This is an AI-generated story and is a continuation of “Test Drive”.
I have kept edits to a minimum, making changes only when the AI would repeat phrases a bit too much.
(Only the Test Drive series will be written with AI assistance)

The cabin was thick with tension, the air heavy with unsaid words. Vincent's eyes were cold, his voice dripping with venom as he spoke. "You two are a disgrace," he spat, his gaze shifting between Tim and Joey. "Nick sent me here to clean up his mess. And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Tim's grip tightened on Joey's shoulder, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. "Vince, you don't have to do this. We can work something out."

Vincent laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Work something out? You think this is a business deal? You're playing with fire, boys. And now, you're going to get burned."

Joey stepped forward, his voice defiant. "We're not afraid of you, Vince. We know what we're doing. We’re trying make things right."
Vincent's expression darkened, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Make things right? You can't change the mafia. It's in your blood, in your bones. You're a part of it, whether you like it or not. And Nick knows it. He sent me here to remind you of that."

Derek, who had been silent until now, spoke up. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of danger in his words. "And who's going to remind you of your place, old man?"

Vincent turned to Derek, his eyes narrowing. "And who the hell are you?"

Derek's expression didn't change, but his voice was cold. "I'm the one who's going to stop you from hurting these boys."

Vincent laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "You? You're just a crazy hermit. You can't stop me."

Derek's hand tightened on his rifle, his voice steady. "We'll see about that."

Vincent's hand moved to his gun, his voice a low growl. "You're making a big mistake, boy."

Before Vincent could draw his gun, Derek's rifle barked, the sound deafening in the small cabin.

Vincent staggered back, a look of shock on his face. He looked down at his chest, at the blooming red stain, and then back up at Derek. "You... you shot me," he gasped, his voice filled with disbelief.

Derek's expression was cold.

Vincent's eyes flickered to Tim and Joey, his voice a low whisper. "Only the good die young," he said, a laugh bubbling up in his throat. He staggered, his legs giving way beneath him. He hit the floor with a thud, his eyes glazing over as life left his body.

Derek kicked at Vincent's body, his voice a roar of pain and anger. "For Sarah! For Lily!" he screamed, the names echoing through the cabin. He turned back to Tim and Joey, his eyes wild, his rifle pointed at Tim. "And who's going to protect you from the people you're trying to protect?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Joey stepped in front of Tim, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "Joey, no," Tim whispered, his hand reaching out to pull Joey back. But

Joey stood his ground, his voice firm. "I can't let you do this, Tim. You have to live. You have to make a difference."

Derek's eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl. "And who's going to make a difference for you, boy?"

Joey's voice was steady; his eyes filled with determination. "I don't matter. Tim does. He can change things. He can make a difference. I can't let you hurt him."

Derek's expression didn't change, but his voice was softer. "And who's going to make a difference for you, Joey?"

Joey's voice was filled with emotion, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love him, Derek. I love him more than anything. And I can't let him die. Not when he has so much to live for."

Derek's eyes searched Joey's, looking for something, anything, that would prove him wrong. But all he saw was love, a fierce, unyielding love that burned brightly in Joey's eyes. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're fools," he muttered, his voice resigned. "But you're brave fools." He lowered his rifle, his voice soft. "Who's Nick?"

The room was thick with the stench of cigar smoke and the faint aroma of expensive cologne. Nick Armando, the town's mafia boss, sat behind his large oak desk, a scowl etched onto his face. He had just hung up the phone, his temper flaring as he grumbled about Vincent's whereabouts.

He stood up, his chair creaking under his weight, and walked to the window behind his desk. The city sprawled out before him, a testament to his power and influence. A smirk played on his lips as he thought about his new ventures and the impending deaths of Tim and Joey. He had sent
Vincent to take care of them, and he expected nothing less than their bodies to be delivered to his doorstep.

The sudden creak of the door opening on the far side of the room made him turn. His eyes widened in disbelief as Tim and Joey strode in, dressed in flannels and jeans, looking like they had been through hell and back. A laugh bubbled up in his throat, a mix of humor and anger.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Tim and Joey walked side by side towards the desk, their expressions serious. Nick leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he took them in. "I must say, boys, I'm surprised to see you alive," he said, his voice a low growl. "I sent Vince to take care of you. Looks like he failed me."

Joey's expression was defiant, his voice casual yet rebellious. "Yeah, well, ol Vinnie underestimated a few things," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "He's not the only one who's going to fail you today, Nick."

Nick's eyes flickered to Tim, his voice a low growl. "And what makes you think you're going to walk out of here alive, boy?"

Tim's expression was steady, his voice calm. "We're not part of this family, Nick. We never were. And we don't want to be. There's been one death too many. We're out."

Nick's expression darkened, his voice a low growl. "You think you can just walk away from this life?"

Before Tim or Joey could respond, Nick's hand moved to his desk, pulling out a gun. But he was too slow. Tim and Joey ducked down, their instincts kicking in. The sound of a gunshot echoed through the room, and Nick's eyes widened in shock as a bullet tore through his head. Blood splattered across the desk, the wall, and the floor, a gruesome testament to the violence that had just taken place.

Tim looked up, his eyes meeting Joey's. "He does," he said, his voice steady. He nodded towards the figure standing in the doorway, a rifle in his hands. Derek Sampson stood there, his expression cold, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and determination.

Nick's body slumped forward, his lifeless eyes staring at the desk. The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of gunpowder and blood. Tim and Joey stood up, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had done it. They had taken down the man who had caused so much pain and suffering. But they knew this was just the beginning. The mafia was like a hydra, cut off one head, and two more would grow in its place. They had to be ready for whatever came next. And they were. Together, they could face anything. Together, they were unstoppable.

The cabin was nestled in a valley, surrounded by towering pines and a pristine lake that reflected the winter sky. The air was crisp, the silence broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. Inside, the scent of bacon and eggs wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the violence they had left behind.

Joey stirred in the upstairs bedroom, his naked body stretching out beneath the thick comforter. The smell of breakfast pulled him from his slumber, a smile spreading across his face as he remembered the events of the past few days. He swung his legs out of bed, the cold floor jolting him awake. He quickly dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Today was the start of their new life, and he couldn't wait to see what it held.

Downstairs, Tim stood in front of the stove, a white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. He hummed a tune, his hands deftly flipping the sizzling bacon. The sight of Joey descending the stairs made him grin, his eyes flicking over Joey's bare chest.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Tim said, his voice warm. "Careful with the oil splatters."

Joey chuckled, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Wouldn't mind a little oil on my body," he replied, winking as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving Tim. "So, what's the plan for today?"

Tim plated the bacon and eggs, setting them on the table. "Well, I was thinking we could head into town, trade in our canoe for something bigger.
A boat, maybe. Something we can fish from."

Joey's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "I like where this is going," he said, taking a seat at the table. "Fishing, huh? You're really getting into this, aren't you?"

Tim nodded, sitting down across from him. "It's become my passion," he admitted. "There's something about the peace, the solitude. It's... liberating."

Joey reached across the table, taking Tim's hand in his own. "You know what else would be liberating?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
Tim raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's that?"

Joey stood up, walking around the table to stand behind Tim. He leaned down, his breath hot on Tim's ear. "Marriage," he whispered.

Tim turned in his chair, looking up at Joey. His eyes were wide, but there was a smile playing on his lips. "Marriage, huh?" he repeated, his voice soft.

Joey nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Tim. I want to build a future with you. I want to wake up every morning to the smell of bacon and eggs, knowing that you're mine."

Tim stood up, wrapping his arms around Joey's waist. He looked into Joey's eyes, his own filled with love and determination. "Then let's do it," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Let's get married. Let's build that future."

Joey's face split into a wide grin, and he pulled Tim into a deep, passionate kiss. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, standing in their cabin by the lake, ready to face whatever came next. Together, they were unstoppable. Together, they were home.

As they pulled away, Tim's stomach rumbled, breaking the tension. Joey laughed, taking Tim's hand and leading him back to the table. "Eat up," he said, his voice filled with laughter. "We've got a big day ahead of us."

They sat down, their hands entwined, their eyes locked. The future stretched out before them, bright and full of promise. They had left behind the violence and the danger, the blood and the betrayal. They had found each other, and they had found peace. And now, they were ready to start their new life together.

This is an AI-generated story and is a continuation of “Test Drive”.
I have kept edits to a minimum, making changes only when the AI would repeat phrases a bit too much. I also wanted to test how the AI would handle love scenes (I guess we could call it that…) and….not so good.
(Only the Test Drive series will be written with AI assistance)

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets. Tim's fingers traced the lines of Joey's back, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses along Joey's spine, his hands roaming over the familiar curves. Joey stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as he rolled over to face Tim.

"Morning, babe," Joey murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Tim smiled, his hand cupping Joey's cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. The kiss deepened, their bodies pressing together, the heat between them building rapidly. Tim's hands explored Joey's body, his touch urgent and needy. Joey responded in kind, his fingers tangling in Tim's hair as he pulled him closer.

Their lovemaking was a dance of desperation and longing, a silent promise of what they were leaving behind and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The room filled with the sounds of their breaths, the soft moans and whispers of their names. When they finally collapsed, spent and breathless, the room was filled with a sense of both satisfaction and dread.

As they showered and dressed, the reality of their situation began to sink in. They packed quickly, their movements efficient and practiced. The apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison, the walls closing in around them. They left without a backward glance, the door clicking shut behind them with a finality that made Tim's heart ache.

The drive to the dealership was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. He could feel the weight of Joey's gaze on him, but he didn't look away from the road. When they arrived, Nick was already there, his imposing figure leaning against the hood of a sleek Chevrolet Corvette.

"Boys," Nick greeted, his voice a low rumble. "Ready for your big adventure?" Tim nodded, swallowing hard. Nick handed him a folded map, his eyes never leaving Tim's face. "You're to head west, straight through to California. There's a small town just outside of Los Angeles. It's called Meadowgrove. You'll find a contact there, Albert Wesker. He will be waiting for you.”

Tim took the map, his hands shaking slightly. He glanced at Joey, who was grinning, his eyes alight with excitement. "We won't let you down, Nick," Joey said, clapping Tim on the shoulder.

Nick nodded, his expression unreadable. "See that you don't. And boys? Be careful. The world out there is a lot different from what you're used to."

With that, they climbed into the Corvette, the engine purring to life beneath them. As they pulled away, Tim could see Nick standing there, his figure growing smaller in the rearview mirror. A sense of unease settled over him, a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The highway stretched out before them, the open road a stark contrast to the confined spaces they were used to. Tim's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps. He could feel the panic rising, the walls of the car closing in around him. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his vision blurring at the edges.

Joey noticed his distress, his hand reaching out to squeeze Tim's thigh. "Hey, babe. You okay?"

Tim shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this, Joey."

Joey's expression softened, his voice steady and reassuring. "We have to, Tim, it’s our life.”

“We’re keep taking lives like they mean nothing." Tim shot back and hands trembled on the wheel, his breath hitching in his throat. "I feel like we’re going to die one day.”

Joey's grip tightened, his voice firm. "We can make a new life, somewhere else. Somewhere better."

Tim looked at Joey, his eyes searching for the truth in his words. He saw the determination in Joey's gaze, the unwavering belief in their future. He took a deep breath, his hands steadying on the wheel. He floored the accelerator, the Corvette surging forward, the wind whipping through their hair.

The dimly lit office was filled with the scent of aged whiskey and expensive cigars. Nick sat behind his desk, the green felt surface cluttered with papers and photographs. His eyes scanned the forms, the lines of text blurring together as his mind wandered to the task at hand. He heard the heavy footsteps approaching before the door creaked open, revealing Vincent Ugolini's imposing figure.

"Nick," Vincent acknowledged, his voice a low growl. Nick looked up, his expression unreadable. "Vincent. I've got a job for you."

Vincent stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "What's the job?"

Nick pushed a photograph across the desk. It was a picture of Tim and Joey, their faces clear and unguarded. "These two. They need to be…
handled."

Vincent picked up the photograph, his eyes narrowing as he studied it. "Timmy and Joey…sitting a tree. Thought they were your favorites, Nick."

Nick's expression darkened. "They were. But they know too much. Can't have them running off, can we?"

Vincent chuckled, a sound like gravel crunching underfoot. "No, we can't. When do they leave?"

"Already gone. Headed west. You'll find them on the highway, probably still arguing about something stupid." Nick slid another piece of paper across the desk. "Here's the route they'll take. Should be easy enough to catch up to them."

Vincent took the paper, tucking it into his pocket. "Consider it done, Nick. Anything else?"

Nick shook his head. "That's all. Just make sure it's clean. No loose ends."

Vincent nodded, turning to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, looking back at Nick. "You sure about this, Nick? These boys, they're different. They might not go down easy."

Nick's expression didn't change. "Just get it done, Vincent."

Vincent left, the door closing softly behind him. Nick leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the photograph of Tim and Joey. A sense of unease washed over him, but he pushed it aside. He had made his decision. There was no turning back now.

The Corvette sped down the highway, the wind rushing through the open windows. Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. Joey sat beside him, his head turned towards Tim, a grin on his face.

"You remember that job we did last year?" Joey shouted over the roar of the engine. "The one where we had to infiltrate that warehouse? The one with all the security cameras?"

Tim nodded, his expression darkening. "Yeah, I remember."

Joey laughed, his eyes alight with excitement. "Man, that was a close one. Remember when you had to shoot that-”

Tim slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt on the side of the road. He turned to Joey, his eyes blazing with anger. "Don't, Joey. Just don't."

Joey's grin faded, his expression turning serious. "What? What did I say?"

Tim's voice was low, dangerous. "You know exactly what you said. You don't bring her up, Joey. Ever."

Joey's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, come on, Tim. It's not like we meant for it to happen. It was an accident."

Tim's hands tightened on the wheel, his voice rising. "An accident? Is that what you call it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like murder."

Joey's expression hardened, his voice matching Tim's in intensity. "It was the job, Tim! We did what we had to do. You can't keep blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong."

Tim's breath hitched, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every little thing? Joey, she died. Because of us."

Joey's expression softened, his voice steady and reassuring. "And that's exactly why we need to leave this life behind, Tim. We can't keep doing this. We can't keep taking lives like they mean nothing."

Tim looked at Joey, his eyes searching for the truth in his words. He saw the determination in Joey's gaze, the unwavering belief in their future. He took a deep breath, his hands steadying on the wheel. He floored the accelerator, the Corvette surging forward, the wind whipping through their hair.

"You know why I don't trust stairs?" Joey asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Tim raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Why's that?"

"Because they're always up to something," Joey replied, grinning.

Tim chuckled, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Joey just laughed, his hand resting on Tim's thigh. He began to trace circles on Tim's suit pants, his touch light and teasing. Tim's breath hitched slightly, but he kept his eyes on the road, a small smile playing on his lips.

Joey's hand moved higher, his fingers deftly unzipping Tim's pants. Tim's breath caught in his throat as Joey freed his dick, his warm hand wrapping around it. Tim's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He tried to focus on the road, but Joey's touch was distracting, his thumb circling the sensitive tip.

The car swerved slightly, the tires hitting the gravel shoulder. Tim cursed under his breath, trying to correct the steering. But Joey's hand was insistent, his strokes steady and sure. Tim's vision blurred, his body responding to Joey's touch despite the danger.

They veered off the road, the tires kicking up dust as it plunged into the woods. Tim's heart pounded in his chest as he fought to control the vehicle. He spotted a large tree looming ahead and yanked the wheel hard to the left. The car skidded, the undercarriage scraping against the rough terrain. The wheels hit a deep rut, and the car lurched, coming to a sudden, jarring halt.

Tim's heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming in quick gasps. He looked at Joey, expecting to see fear or regret. But Joey just grinned, his hand still wrapped around Tim.

"Well, that was exciting," Joey said, his voice casual.

Tim's expression darkened, but then he saw the humor in the situation. He threw his head back, laughing. "You're insane, you know that?"

Joey just shrugged, his grin never fading. "But you love me anyway."

Tim's laughter subsided, his expression softening. "Yeah, I do."

He looked around, assessing the damage. The car was heavily damaged, the undercarriage scraped and dented. One of the wheels was bent, the tire flat. They were stuck, deep in the woods.

Tim turned back to Joey, his eyes dark with desire. "You know, we should probably check the damage."

Joey's grin widened, his hand tightening around Tim. "Oh, I think we've already checked the damage."

Tim's breath hitched, his body responding to Joey's touch. He leaned in, capturing Joey's lips in a fierce kiss. Joey moaned, his hand stroking
Tim faster, his thumb circling the sensitive tip.

This is an AI-generated story and is a continuation of “Test Drive”.
I have kept edits to a minimum, making changes only when the AI would repeat phrases a bit too much.
(Only the Test Drive series will be written with AI assistance)

The woods were dense, the canopy above filtering the sunlight into dappled shadows that danced on the forest floor. Tim and Joey walked away from the wrecked Corvette, their suits a stark contrast to the rugged wilderness around them. Joey's eyes sparkled with an adventurous gleam as he took in their surroundings.

"Hey, Tim," Joey said, his voice casual yet excited. "We could live off the land, you know. Like lumberjacks."

Tim chuckled, shaking his head. "In our suits? I think not."

Joey grinned, his fingers tracing the lapel of Tim's jacket. "Nah, we'd have to get some flannel and jeans. Maybe grow some beards."

Tim laughed, the sound echoing through the woods. "You in flannel? Now that's a sight I'd pay to see."

Joey punched him playfully in the arm. "Hey, I'd look good. And think about it: hunting for food, building a cabin..."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "A cabin? Fully loaded and with plumbing, right?"

Joey laughed, his eyes scanning the trees. "Yeah, why not? We could do it. It'd be an adventure."

Tim smiled, his hand reaching out to squeeze Joey's. "It would be. But for now, let's find our way out of here."

As if on cue, a sharp crack echoed through the woods. Tim and Joey froze, their bodies tensing. They drew their guns in unison, the metallic clicks echoing in the sudden silence. They scanned the area, their eyes narrowing as they tried to pinpoint the source of the sound.

Another shot rang out, the bullet ricocheting off a nearby tree. Bark splintered, the fragments raining down on them. Tim's heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening on his gun. He looked at Joey, seeing the same determination in his eyes.

"Stay alert," Tim murmured, his voice low. They moved cautiously, their guns raised, their eyes scanning the woods. But there was no sign of the shooter. The woods were silent, the only sound the distant call of a bird.

Suddenly, a voice boomed out, harsh and commanding. "Drop your guns."

Tim and Joey exchanged a glance, their bodies tensing. They looked around, trying to spot the speaker, but the woods remained still. Another shot rang out, the bullet kicking up dirt near their feet.

"Drop your guns," the voice repeated, the command clear and final.

Tim leaned in, his voice a soft whisper. "No more killing, Joey. We can't."

Joey nodded, his expression grim. They slowly lowered their guns, placing them on the ground. They stepped back; their hands raised in surrender.

A figure emerged from the shadows, a high-powered rifle held firmly in his hands. Derek Sampson's eyes were cold, his expression unreadable.

He approached them, his steps cautious, his rifle never wavering.

"What are you doing on my land?" he asked, his voice steady.

Tim's mind raced, trying to produce a plausible explanation. "We were heading west to a funeral salesmen convention," he said, his voice calm.

"Hence the suits. But we crashed our car."

Derek's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking between Tim and Joey. "A funeral salesmen convention," he repeated, his voice flat.

Joey chimed in, his voice casual. "Yeah, it's a big deal. Lots of networking, lots of... funerals."

Derek's expression didn't change, but his grip on the rifle tightened. "And you expect me to believe that?"

Tim shrugged, his hands still raised. "Believe what you want. We're just trying to get out of here."

Joey looked at Derek, his eyes hopeful. "Do you have a phone? We could call for help."

Derek shook his head, his expression unyielding. "No phone. But you can rest at my cabin for a bit. Then you'll leave."

Tim and Joey exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. They nodded, their decision made. They would go with Derek, rest, and then leave. It was their best option, their only option.

Derek turned, leading the way through the woods. Tim and Joey followed, their steps cautious, their eyes alert. The woods were silent, the only sound the crunch of leaves under their feet. They walked in silence, the tension between them palpable. They had no idea what awaited them at the cabin, but they knew one thing for sure: they were in deep trouble.

Vincent Ugolini's old sedan rumbled down the interstate, the engine coughing like an asthmatic smoker. He took a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim interior of the car. His mind wandered back to that day, the day those two young punks had surpassed him. Tim and Joey, fresh-faced and eager, had taken the lead enforcer position right out from under him. Nick's words echoed in his mind, "Sometimes youth trumps skill, Vince. You're getting old."

He muttered a string of Italian curses under his breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The memory of Tim and Joey stepping into Nick's parlor, their suits crisp and expensive, made his blood boil. Nick had congratulated them, patted them on the back, and then dropped the bomb: Vincent was now under their command.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted something up ahead. He slowed the car, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the wrecked Corvette. "Stupid boys," he muttered, shaking his head. He pulled over, the gravel crunching under the tires. He got out, his boots hitting the pavement with a heavy thud. He walked towards the woods, his eyes scanning the area. He could see the faint trail of disturbed leaves and broken branches leading deeper into the forest. He followed it, his steps slow and deliberate.

Meanwhile, at the cabin, Tim and Joey sat on a worn-out couch, each holding a large cup of water. The cabin was sparse, the walls bare except for a few hunting trophies. Derek sat across from them, his rifle still pointed in their general direction. Tim noticed that the safety was still off, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to keep his voice steady as he asked, "So, Derek, what made you decide to become a man of the land?"

Derek's eyes were distant, his voice flat as he replied, "Death."

Joey's eyebrows shot up, his curiosity piqued. "Death? That's a bit morbid, don't you think?"

Derek's gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto Joey's. "My wife and daughter died because of your kind," he said, his voice cold. "A mafia hit gone wrong. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Tim's grip tightened on his cup, his knuckles turning white. He exchanged a glance with Joey, seeing the same shock reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," Tim murmured, his voice sincere. "But we're not like that. We're trying to change things from within."

Derek scoffed, his expression unyielding. "Change? You can't change the mafia. It's in your blood, in your bones. You're a part of it, whether you like it or not."

Joey leaned forward, his voice passionate. "But we can try. We can make a difference. We can protect people, not hurt them."

Derek's expression softened slightly, but his grip on the rifle didn't waver. "And who's going to protect you from the people you're trying to protect?" he asked, his voice soft. "This world is full of darkness, boys. And you're playing with fire."

Tim set his cup down, his voice steady. "We know the risks. But we can't just stand by and do nothing. We have to try."

Derek's eyes searched theirs, looking for something, anything, that would prove them wrong. But all he saw was determination, a fiery resolve that burned brightly in their eyes. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're fools," he muttered, his voice resigned. "But you're brave fools."

Just then, a noise outside caught their attention. A figure emerged from the woods, his silhouette familiar. Vincent Ugolini stepped into the cabin, his eyes cold and calculating. He looked at Tim and Joey, his expression unreadable. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. The dynamic duo themselves."